


Tragic Happenings

by LittleWatty



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Modded Oblivion, Very heavily modded, but I didn't care when I wrote it, none of this is lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-30
Updated: 2010-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWatty/pseuds/LittleWatty
Summary: An idea I came up with when I decided to mess around with a bunch of mods in Oblivion quite some time back. After a flashback to High School when we read Julius Caesar, I wanted to try my hand at a tragedy, and using the ideas I got from the mods, this is what happened. The original version of this story comes with its own series of screen shots, but as I'm not sure how that well that would go over, I'm leaving them out for now. If I ever edit them in, I'll be sure to let you all know!Most characters are my own, but there is the occasional NPC from the game





	1. Chapter 1

The Ainmhi are a race of peoples unknown to most. First created by a powerful mage to serve as slaves, these half beast, half human are more than they ever seemed. The mages believe them as simple creatures, useful for no more than doing as they’re told. True, most cannot do much more than that after years of serving their masters, but some believe in a life far greater than that of which they have been given. 

 

_ 3rd of Second Seed, 3E425  _

_ I can’t believe it! While out collecting herbs for the master, mother found this journal in the pack of a dead bandit! Most of the pages were torn and bloodied so I had to rip them out, but there are many left for me to use! Rathill says the master will be angry when he finds that I’ve stolen one of his quills to use for this journal, but I don’t care. This is the only sort of freedom I’ve ever had.  _

_ Father seems worried, and now that I say it, Mother does as well. I think the master may have a buyer coming to look at us. I’ve heard him say that he is planning on retiring this fort and going back to the mages guild to further his (several scribbled out words) Alchemy. I guess that’s what he’s doing when he mixes those strange colored liquids and crushes the plants Mother brings him.  _

 

Amanthe buried the journal under the planks of a broken crate before the mage saw him writing. But the master wasn’t coming for him. “Tarinth!” he shouted, throwing open the door to Amanthe and Rathill’s small room. “Where is that bastard!” the mage yelled, not seeing the older Ainmhi in the room. Unknown to the mage, however, was a small area that the family had created in the wall should they ever need to hide. Tarinth pushed aside the stones concealing him and crept to the center of the room. 

“Has he gone?” The two younger Ainmhi nodded. Their father walked to Amanthe, sorrow clearly in his eyes. “No matter what you hear, do not leave this room. Do you hear me? Both of you.” He embraced his son for one last time before going to his daughter and doing the same. “Look after your mother.” Tarinth knew the master would punish him accordingly. 

Amanthe held Rathill in his arms when the screaming began, and did not let go even when it stopped. She cried into his shoulder, but he dared not shed a tear. The door flew open and the master stalked in, his mage’s robe stained with Tarinth’s blood. “Come here, boy!” Amanthe backed away with Rathill, keeping his eyes off of the angry mage. “I said, come here!” The master’s wood staff stung Amanthe’s back. He cried out, allowing Rathill to flee into the corner. The mage dragged Amanthe by his ear to an adjacent room and threw him to the floor by his father’s mangled body. “This is what happens when you betray your master!” The stench of blood filled his sensitive nose, causing him to cringe. “Let this be a lesson to you and the rest of your pathetic ‘family’! I am your master, you obey me! Now get out of my sight!” Amanthe scrambled away, returning to the room he shared with his sister. Sartha was there, comforting her daughter. She looked at him with her good eye and motioned him over. Their mother had gone blind in one eye after a particularly brutal beating from the master. She had collected the wrong plant. However, her one green eye was still strong, allowing her to continue her service to the master.


	2. Chapter 2

_ 28 Midyear, 3E425  _

_ Mother is gone! The master sold her! He said she was no longer good, with her other eye starting to go bad. The master knows nothing! He’s been getting worse and worse since he beat Father to death. Something isn’t right with him.  _

_ He beat Rathill the other day. I don’t even know what she did, if she did anything at all. The bleeding still hasn’t stopped, she says she can’t see anything, and I’m beginning to worry. If she can’t see, will he sell her too? Will I be the only one left? I couldn’t stand it if I lost everyone. I’ll run away, that’s what I’ll do. If he sells Rathill, I’ll run away. I’ll rescue Rathill and we’ll go find Mother. She says I shouldn’t worry about such things, that the two of us will be fine, but if she can’t see he’ll sell her like he did Mother.  _

 

The chains around Amanthe’s ankles and wrists clanked as he hid the diary from the master. He’d be beat to death like Tarinth if he was caught with it. Rathill was laying in the corner and had been still most of the day, this worried him. She was always full of energy, but this wasn’t normal for her. Maybe the reality of things was setting in, maybe she had realized that this was all there was for them. Living a life of service, with no hope of escape, and beaten whenever the master willed it. Amanthe was just happy that he fed them. 

 

_ 30 Midyear, 3E425  _

_ She’s blind. Both eyes. The master doesn’t even seem to notice. He order’s her around as he always has, and its starting to worry me. He has never been so careless. I think he's loosing money. He doesn't wear the fancy robes he used to. The ones he has now are tattered and torn. Something is (scribbles)  _

 

Amanthe was caught off guard and barely had time to hide his journal before the master came stalking in. “Up. I said up!.” The master backhanded Amanthe, sending him reeling. He re-chained the two of their arms behind their backs and dragged them down to the base of the tower. There stood another, dressed in a full set of mithril and a grey hood. 

"Are these the two Ainmhi you spoke of?" 

"These are them." 

"What's wrong with the female?" 

"She's... blind. But I assure you, she's a fine slave! She does what she's told, unlike this one." He smacked the back of Amanthe's head. The young Ainmhi let out a low growl, which gave him another strike to the head. "See what I mean? You'd be far better off with the female. Although, I'll give you both for a deal." 

"No, no, one is enough." The two shook hands and the transaction was done. 

"Amanthe!" Rathill cried when the stranger grabbed her chains. "No! Let go of me!" Amanthe lunged after the man, but the master grabbed his chains and yanked him back. 

"Rathill!" Tears brimmed his eyes as his sister and her new master disappeared behind the large wooden door to the tower.


	3. Chapter 3

_ 1 Sun's Height, 3E425  _

_ Gone  _

_ Gone  _

_ they're all gone  _

_ I tried to get away but the master caught me. Now he has me chained to the wall. I can't get away. Not now.  _

_ all gone. I’m the only one  _

 

Amanthe stashed the journal nearby, close so he could reach it, but far enough so the master wouldn't find it. He was alone now, he had no family left. They might as well be dead for all the good they'd be able to do him now. He mourned them as though they were gone from this world, but he knew they still lived, for the time. 

A shattering screech tore through the air, causing Amanthe’s delicate ears to bleed. He dropped to the floor, covering his head, trying to escape from the pain he was enduring. There was something in the tower, something big. Shortly there after, the master came in. The hem of his robe was scorched, and Amanthe could smell burned flesh and hair. “Fetching Ainmhi, risking my life for you,” he mumbled as he unchained Amanthe from the wall. When the master turned his back, the Ainmhi grabbed his journal and quill, his mind set on escaping. He climbed down the center of the tower, leaping from pile to pile of rubble. In the very center of the tower, larger than life, was a dragon. Its scales a deep blood red, its body covered in small flames, it was a fearsome creature. Amanthe watched in horror as the master attempted to flee past the dragon. Carelessly, the dragon crushed the man beneath one of its massive feet. 

Yelping loudly, Amanthe attempted to hide around one of the towers central pillars, but the beast saw him anyway. Letting out a shrill wail, a column of fire passed Amanthe as he rounded to the other side of the support. His sackcloth pants were slightly singed, but he was otherwise unscathed. The dragon’s head snaked around from Amanthe’s other side, catching him off guard. Unable to move in time, the beast lightly grasped him in its mouth, taking off for the skies. 

 

_ 2 Sun’s Height, 3E425  _

_ Again. I’m a slave again. The beast has taken me as his captive. I don’t know what he plans to do with me, but I can smell the death surrounding this place. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Its all so confusing. There are dead soldiers and dead horses around the dragon’s feet, and I must smell their decaying bodies day in and out. I think that’s what he gives me for food. The meat he drops by me is fetid and disgusting, but he gets angry when I don’t eat.  _

_ I am able to hide this journal in between the cracks in the walls, but I have no doubts that some day he will discover it. This journal is all I have left of my family, the only thing to remind me of them. I will keep it as long as I can for them. It’s the least I can do.  _

 

_ 28 Rain’s Hand, 3E426  _

_ I’ve done it! I’m free! I was able to get away from the beast as he tended to his hoard of treasures. The goblins are used to me walking through the halls and did not bother me. I’m free from the beast!  _

_ I’ve heard that the nearby city of Bruma has been having troubles with him. I want to help them if I can. I’m headed there now, and I have to keep on the move. I hear the howls of large beasts and I don’t want to be caught by one of them too.  _

 

Amanthe closed his journal and looked up to the newly rising sun. It was his first day as a free Ainmhi. He fully intended on enjoying his newfound freedom. A howl from nearby sent him running. 

Amanthe reached a Bruma within a couple hours and was given many strange looks by the guards several of the citizens. Very carefully and quietly, he picked the pockets of several citizens and headed towards the local armory. Amanthe didn’t want to die on his first day free, and thus needed protection. With the money he stole all he was able to get was an old iron bow and a couple arrows, but it would suffice. 

Quickly he made his way up to the castle, marveling at all the things he had never seen before. People chatted happily, guards went about their duties. The one thing that fascinated him was the snow, he couldn’t get used to it. He didn’t even complain of the cold on his bare feet while walking through the several drifts around the city. The castle itself was very calm, and Amanthe could see the countess sitting on her throne at the end of the hall. He bowed, kneeling at her feet. “I am Countess Narina Carvain. What do you need of me?” Amanthe looked up, his strange looks catching her attention. “What manner of beast are you, boy? The ears and tail of a Khajiit, and eyes like I’ve never seen. From where do you hail?” 

Clearing his throat, he spoke. “The name my mother gave me is Amanthe. I am of the Ainmhi, a race that lives as slaves to the mages.” 

“Slaves? And where is your master now?” 

“My last true master is dead, slain by a dragon.” 

“And now? Are you free?” 

“I am now. I just escaped from a dragon that I’ve heard you have been having troubles with.” 

“Nazagear!” 

“That is the name he goes by.” 

“You escaped from him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you can get back in.” 

“My lady, I cannot.” Amanthe stood, protesting the Countesses proposition. She nodded to someone behind him, and instantly his arms were grabbed by two Bruma guards. 

“You are the only soul who has ever gotten near that beast and lived. You are the only one who can do so again. I need your help, little Ainmhi. I know you want to live and be free, but you must first do this for me. If you do not, I will consider it an act of treason, and you will never be free.”


	4. Chapter 4

_ 29 Rain's Hand, 3E426  _

_ Oblivion take them all! The Countess has forced me to return to that dreaded place, but I am not alone. She has sent with me some of her best, so she claims. I have told them of the hole in the ceiling that the beast uses to enter and exit the ruins, and they will use ropes to scale down while I keep it distracted. That is all we know at the moment, but I cannot do much more than that when it comes to planning. I do not have the time! Nazagear will fall. Its the last thing I have to do before I can be free. Its all I have to do.  _

 

Amanthe set down his quill, watching the guards pack up their things to continue on. They were near the cave now, barely an hours walk away. Amanthe took off in front of them, heading through the cave to where the dragon made its home. He was not greeted, he was barely noticed, by the goblins and the dragon alike. Above the beast, however, he could see the men scrambling to prepare themselves. Amanthe didn't care if they all perished or not. So long as he lived, he did not care. 

Placing an arrow against the shaft of the bow, Amanthe aimed the tip at the sleeping dragon, the arrow dripping with the poison he had added. Hopefully it would be enough to keep the dragon focused on him while the others decended into the room. 

His plan worked! The dragon stirred, fixing its gaze on Amanthe, and let out a shrill roar. The beast charged him, slamming its head into the hallway that he had taken cover in. Seeing that Nazagear was fully occupied with the little Ainmhi, the Countess’ guards took their chance to decend to the floor below. Thew swords and axes cut past the scales of the dragon’s ankles, blood pooling around their feet. Staggering, the dragon backed away from Amanthe and turned its focus to the pesky guards surrounding it. 

Amanthe crept arround the dragon, trying not to attract its attention. He found a corpse to one of the knights that had fallen some time ago, his face already dried around the skull. Picking up the silver longsword, Amanthe sprinted to the back side of the dragon. Grunting with effort, he climbed up the back of the dragon, only pulling out a few scales on the way. Nazagear noticed the little Ainmhi on his back and flailed around, attempting to rid itself of its passenger. Hanging on for dear life, his eyes wide with fear, Amanthe continued the climb until he was sitting comfortably on the dragon's neck. Clutching the hilt of the sword with both hands, he swung it wide and buried it in the side of its neck. Nazagear roared out loud, falling to its side. The sudden shift in movement threw Amanthe across the room, his back slamming against a pillar. 

Amanthe's vision flickered as he attempted to stand, his back aching. The dragon now lay on its side, one wing protruding at an odd angle, gasping raggedly. The blade had nicked its windpipe, just enough to give troubles. The Ainmhi dragged himself over to the slowly dying beast, the tip of the blade sparking as it was traced along the Ayleid stone. In one last effort, Amanthe plunged the blade into the beasts skull between its eyes. There was a slight crack as the dragon wimpered, then there was nothing. 

Around the beast lay the fallen knights the Countess sent with him. All of them lay dead, some half eaten, others crushed. Amanthe had been the only one to survive. Nazagear was dead. 

 

_ (written in a shaky hand) 30 Rain's Hand, 3E426  _

_ Dawn just broke, and I still lay here in this cavern. The goblins have trapped me in here, and there is no where left for me to run. During the battle, the beast either burned or tore down the robes the knights used and now the only way out is the way I came in. There are hundreds of Goblins out there. They know something is wrong, but they do not know why. If I were to suddenly appear, covered in blood as I am, they would attack me on sight. There would be no chance for me to escape. But escape I must! I am a free man now and nothing can keep me here any longer! _

 

Amanthe tucked the small journal into a small pack he looted from one of the corpses. Taking what he could, some arrows, a couple lockpicks, and several treasures from the dragon's hoard, he set on leaving. The silver longsword he had used to kill Nazagear still lay by the dragon's corpse, standing out against the blood surrounding it. Here lay Amanthe's last master, and the last who would ever claim him. Uncomfortable with the use of a long sword, he left the blade where it was and instead grabbed a short sword from the carnage. Shouldering his pack, Amanthe left the chamber. In the large open room that housed the bulk of the goblins, he did his best to slip past unnoticed, but was discovered nearly the instant he walked in. Screeching unnaturally, the goblins chased him down. 

The path Amanthe had devised in his head was soon so full of goblins, it was impossible to see his goal. He had been quickly surrounded. Eyes wide with fear, Amanthe sprinted straight ahead through the thinnest group of goblins. Blood trickled down his arms and chest as the claws and blades met his flesh when he ran past. The pain was immense, but it was worth the thought of being free. He was, however, forced to stop when the thick of goblins was impossible to pass. They had surrounded him at the highest point of the room, with no way to get down the staircases on either side of him. Amanthe braced himself, the goblins closing in, when he saw a way out. Pushing himself as hard as he dared, he leaped over a fire pit, and fell to the ground two stories below. In a mad dash, Amanthe wove his way through the thinner crowd of goblins, until he was able to break free of the worst and head directly for the exit. Several small groups met him on the way, but none had the motive nor means to stop the little Ainmhi. 

Once free of the cave, Amanthe took some time to nurse his wounds. Many were small cuts and scrapes but an arrow had lodge itself in his left shoulder, having cut though the deerskin quiver strapped to his back. He whimpered loudly as he slowly moved the bag down the shaft of the arrow until it was completely free of it. The arrows he dumped on the ground so he was able to fold up the quiver and place it between his teeth. The scream that sounded from his mouth at the removal of the arrow echoed through the Jerrals. Amanthe curled up in the snow, crying and bleeding. He was alone, no one was coming for him, but he was free. Tears of pain mixed with tears of joy as he thought of that aspect. He was FREE.


	5. Chapter 5

_ 2 Second Seed 3E426  _

_ The beast's treasures were worth much in Bruma, enough for me to find a healer for my wounds as well as to repair and replenish my equipment. I should have enough for several days travel, if I proportion it correctly. The Countess gave me her thanks, rewarding me with a valuable stone. Its strange, shaped oddly with an otherwordly glow. I think she called it a (several crossed out words) Varla stone. I've put it in my pack, saving it for a rainy day. Like the dragon's treasures, it may come fetch a good bit of gold.  _

_ The city is a couple days behind me now, but I keep getting the feeling that I'm being followed. Its strange. I think I see a shadow move, only to find that nothing is amiss. I don't like it. The next chance I get, I'm going into town to fetch help, or at least I'll go to a tavern and lay low for a while.  _

 

Amanthe slammed his journal shut when he heard something rustling in the bushes. His highly attuned ears picked up the slightest trace of heavy breathing. There was someone following him! Inch by inch, he reached for the dagger by his side. When whatever it was started to growl at him, he paused. It wasn't a "someone" but a "something" that was in there. Amanthe was now afraid for his life. He may have killed Nazagear, but it was only by luck and that of the companions the Countess sent with him. On his own he was nothing. He had no training, just basic instinct. And his instinct was telling him to run! 

Before Amanthe could even get away from his tent, the figure ambushed him. It was big, black, and unlike anything he had seen before. Its claws tore into his flesh, its teeth sinking into his shoulder. Letting out a loud yelp, Amanthe struck back. Luck would have it that he hit the creatures wet nose, causing it to let go and stagger. The Ainmhi grabbed his bow took off, headed for the nearest road, with the creature hot on his heels. He didn't get very far before he was hit from behind, the creature throwing all of it weight into him. Landing a few feet away, Amanthe stood and faced the creature that had attacked him. It was a werewolf, though small by their standards, it was large enough to strike the most primal fear into Amanthe's heart. The kind of fear that he hadn't felt since the Mage that was once his master beat his father to death. 

Amanthe was frozen as the werewolf charged him, and was still even when the creature struck out at him. Its claws dug into his chest, sending him backwards. His head struck a stone on the side of the road, and his vision flickered to black. 

 

A young woman paged through the journal she found by the fire. It had only been damaged slightly by the elements, but the handwriting was the same as it had always been. Her eyesight wasn't the same as it used to be, but she could still tell that it was from the person she sought. She only read a few entries, but found herself surprised by the different happenings that were retold. Beasts of all sorts, Dragons, it was incredible. The first few entries brought tears to her eyes. Such loss, such sorrow. He had truly suffered. The cover and some pages had spots of recent blood on them, which worried her, but there was little sign of a struggle. Fur here, some things strewn around. It looked less like a bandit and more like a creature attack. Had it not been for her mother, there was no doubt she would have missed the small footprints, though larger than hers, leading away from the camp. What worried hr the most, however, were the large pair of footprints following. They were canine in nature, but human in size. She had not come so far only to lose what she had been looking so long for. Months of traveling would not be wasted! She packed up her things, including the journal, and moved on. 

 

_ 5 Second Seed 3E426  _

_ Amanthe, I know this is your journal. I would recognize your handwriting anywhere. The scribbled letters, the oddly crossed t's, the missed dots on the i's, and the d's that are occasionally switched for b's. You haven't changed, even after all this time. But in a way, I suppose you have. I do not know if I will find you, but I pray to the Nine, the Daedric Princes, or any deity that may be listening, that I will. If I don't, then this journal will be all I have to remember you by. _

 

She put down the joural, planning to write more once she found the Ainmhi she was looking for. He couldn't have gone far. The tracking tips her mother taught her before she died helped her find Amanthe shortly after finding his last camp. He was covered in blood on the side of the road and completely unconscious. Looking sadly down at his peaceful face, she picked him up in her arms. Had it been two years ago, she would not have been able to. But, having run to each end of Cyrodiil and back over several months, she was much stronger than she was. Amanthe was lighter than she expected, probably from malnourishment. She suspected that he may be ill, judging from his rapid eye movement and heavy sweat. Taking him to her camp, only a little ways away, she placed him on her bedroll underneath a small tent and nursed his festering wounds, hoping to bring down the fever. 

She sat by his side until dusk came, but still there was no sign of him waking. It was to be a long road ahead, and maybe one that would result in only one of them leaving the camp alive. 

Having dozed off a little under an hour earlier, she woke to the enormous commotion coming from within the tent. "Amanthe" she called, a bit worried. He was curled in a ball on the bedroll, his body twitching, a soft whimper escaping his lips. "Amanthe, are you alright?" She touched his shoulder, finding his skin was far warmer than it should be. He convulsed until his eyes met hers. They weren't they're usual white, but instead a bright golden yellow. 

"Rathill!" he called out in pain and surprise. 

"What's going on?" She tried to hold down his shoulders, but his thrashing only got worse. "Amanthe, tell me how to help!" In reply he let out a scream that turned into a howl. Rathill backed away in fear as her brother's body slowly morphed into a form she did not recognize. Golden fur grew form his arms and back as a white fur covered his underbelly and most of his face. Within moments, Amanthe's shape was now that of a wolf built to stand on two legs.


	6. Chapter 6

The werewolf that was once Amanthe growled and charged Rathill. She screamed, throwing up her arm as it tackled her. Vicious teeth snapped at her face, but instead clamped down on the arm she used to protect herself. The blood flowing down her arm, Rathill kneed the wolf in the gut and rolled it on its back so she was able to get up an run. She only managed to get a few feet before the golden wolf caught up and sunk its teeth deep into the side of her throat. Inhaling deeply, Rathill's body tensed at the sudden flow of immense pain. She tried to scream out, but all that came was a gurgled cough. Relishing the taste of her unique blood, the released her and savored the taste. Rathill staggered forward a couple steps, turning to face what was once her loving older brother. "A... Ama.... Amanthe?" she barely said, spitting up some blood. The werewolf snapped its head to meet her gaze, revealing nothing of the person it once was. Its lip twitched in a snarl, a low guttural growl emitting from its jaws. It was over in an instant, the werewolf's claws raking across Rathill's throat, and her body landing some feet away. 

Something inside the beast snapped. Seeing Rathill's body the way it was, crumpled and bleeding on the ground, something within the werewolf couldn't stand the sight of it. Amanthe's conscious mind conquered the beasts instincts, and he fell to his knees, convulsing with sobs of grief. He crawled over to his sister, adjusting her so she could rest peacefully. As he moved her corpse, Amanthe's own journal fell from her pack. He looked through it, cringing when he saw some of the pages covered with his sisters blood. The last used entry was that of his sister's, and knowing she cared so much only caused more tears to come. Amanthe dipped his claw into a pool of his sister's life blood and began writing, 

 

_ I have lost track of the date, but know this: Whoever finds this journal, kill the man, boy, beast, or whatever manner of creature I may now be that wields it. I am a murderer, a fiend, and no longer deserve to live. This is written in my sister's blood, the only one who ever cared enough to seek me out. Please, I beg of you, end my miserable life and let me join my family in a life beyond this one. _

 

Amanthe threw down the journal by the fire pit, curling up by the body of his last family and cried until dawn came and he shifted back into his Ainmhi form. 

 

_ Date Unknown (the page is stained in blood)  _

_ I killed another last night... a lone wanderer on the road... the thirst for blood consumes me, and I cannot escape it. I want to rid myself of this horrid curse, but I do not think it is possible. I am the last of my family left alive. My father, killed by the master. My mother, slain by bandits near the Morrowind boarder. My sister... Killed by my own hand. How many more innocents will die because of me? How many more until I am finally found and killed by some virtuous foe? Far too many, I'm afraid.  _

 

_ Date Unknown (bloody fingerprints line the edges)  _

_ I have found what I must do. The werewolves, these beasts, must die. I must kill them all for what they're accursed kind did to me. I found one this past evening and killed it, skinning its pelt and hanging it in a tree above the corpse. They will all know who I am and what I am to do. They will fear me. I will not stop until they are all dead.  _

_ Werewolves slain: 1  _

 

_ Date Unknown  _

_ I'm being followed. I can sense it. I don't know who or what it is, but they're following me. Its not like the werewolf that attacked me, this is entirely different. Who or whatever it is has been trailing me for days, weeks, even months. I think its been following me since I... first killed. Whatever it is has not shown itself to me, but I will find it. If its a werewolf, it will die.  _

_ Werewolves slain: 12  _

 

_ Date Unknown (page is torn in half)  _

_ A guard caught up with me today. I should have let him kill me but... but my instincts took over and I... I killed him too... What is wrong with me? Am I just a beast? A mindless animal with its heart set on killing? I left a note by the body, telling whoever found it to trail me, to find me in my sleep and kill me. They haven't yet.  _

_ Werewolves slain: 27  _

 

_ Date Unknown  _

_ I don't know how much more of this I can take... I keep killing, I keep eating. I only change three times a month, the day before, day of, and day after the full moons. My innocent body count rises each night, sometimes by more than one. I have no doubts that I've killed dozens by now. Still that presence follows me. At first I thought perhaps I was going crazy, the mind of the wolf taking hold. Then, after a while, I knew it was no so. I was being followed. Now, I can't help but wonder what this thing wants from me. If it wanted to kill me, I would have been dead long ago.  _

_ Werewolves slain: 49 _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter.

_ Date Unknown  _

_ Its here... I can feel it... that thing that's been following me, its in my camp... I want to sleep, but I doubt that I can.  _

_ Werewolves slain: 53 _

 

Amanthe set down his journal by his bedroll, hesitant to fall asleep. He was exhausted from his nights work. He killed several werewolves already this evening, and thought it best to rest his aching body. 

Not long after he fell asleep, Amanth's slumber was disturbed. "You sleep rather soundly for a murderer," a voice whispered in his ear. Instinctively, he grabbed the short sword he slept by and slashed out at the intruder. The blade was stopped by nothing but empty air, but there was still the clang of metal on metal. He could smell whoever it was directly in front of him, so he knew they were there. Then a thought crossed his mind. A mage! The only mage he knew seperated his family for life, and condemned them to the lives they suffered through. Acting out of rage, Amanthe drew back his sword and struck out again, the sharp point stopped once more by nothing but air. Pushing forward with the blade, he attempted to stagger the stranger and jumped it. A blade nicked his side and Amanthe yelped out in pain. As he fell to the ground, clutching the shallow wound on his side, a figure materialized in front of him. "You fetching fool!" the man in black cursed. Seeing the man's black robes, images of the master flashed before his eyes. Only mages wore robes was the thought that crossed his mind. Snarling, Amanthe leaped onto the man, his teeth sinking into his arm. The man screamed, digging a dagger into the Ainmhi's arm. He whimpered, falling back to the ground. Amanthe let out a yowl as he pulled the dagger from his arm. Behind him, the man cast chameleon over himself and began walking away while muttering, "foul beast." A deep growl escaped Amanthe's throat as he turned and charged the man in black, digging his nails into the mans torso and biting into the back of his neck. Grunting, the nearly invisible figure thrust a sword into Amanthe's abdomen and angled it up into his ribcage. He wimpered, spitting up a trail of blood. The man threw him to the ground, leaving him to bleed out as he walked away. "Ungolim's fetching daft!" he mumbled. "Sends me out to recruit nothing but a beast. 'He'll be a great asset to us, Lucien!' Fetching p'tah! Nothing but a beast." 

Amanthe lay on the ground as his life blood soaked into the soil. As he bled, he couldn't help but smile. At long last he could rest. He could see his family once more.


End file.
